The Countrycide Chronicles
by Lavanya Six
Summary: A storehouse for my various short stories related to LoK. Now featuring "Economic Equalism," wherein we visit a universe where the Equalists focused on the *actual* oppression we saw on-screen...
1. The Future's Past

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**The Future's Past**

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* * *

Despite the cold rain and mist, I am not lonely on deck as we steam into Yue Bay. Who joined me out of the natural enthusiasm of the tourist and who out of the curiosity of a passerby to a satomobile crash is something I cannot say. Yet as we pass Aang Memorial Island, all of us together crane our heads back to take in the reconstruction work there, where scaffolding rises as high as the monument that once and will soon again stand there.

Just five years ago, _Excellence_ magazine reported on atrocities not seen since the height of the Hundred Years' War as they unfolded in the streets of Republic City. What started as a crackdown against Equalists forces after Avatar Korra's assassination by a disaffected university student quickly degenerated into a bloody free-for-all, with sectarian tensions new and old forming the battle-lines in civil war. Yet from the ashes of that conflict rose a new and unexpected force in the world: the United Peoples' Republic.

My first experience with the new order is at the Customs Office, where an immigration official hands me a white armband along with my stamped passport. Emblazoned on it are the words 'privileged foreign non-bender.' The punishment subsequently outlined to me for non-compliance, two lashings for starters, are enough to see I quickly don it. As I hunt for a taxi to take me to my interview, everyone I see is likewise wearing an armband: black-on-white for foreigners and white-on-black for natives. Bending status and occupation is clear for all to see.

A clear hierarchy is, according to Chairperson Shu Shi, of the utmost importance to maintaining the rule by law. A former political activist and grocer, Shi organized one of the city's first neighborhood militia after the Equalists took control of his district during the early days of the Peoples' Revolution.

Shi cuts a rail thin figure, something unexpected in a revolutionary who can't bend, but his weapons have never been physical. Sharp grey eyes never leave me during our interview, as if I were a potential shoplifter in his old store. Yet besides stacks of paperwork, the only item I could steal from his barren office is a bust of Chin the Conqueror. A man who, incidentally, the Chairperson looks to as a visionary.

"While Chin's methods for controlling an continent-sized territory were necessarily crude because of the primitiveness of his era, his was the first truly functional multicultural state."

And the United Republic of Nations was not?

Shi spreads his hands. "We're sitting here, aren't we?"

'Here' being the Tenzin Memorial City Hall building, where there hang warnings against bender and non-bender supremacism alongside proclamations of the virtues of Neo-Legalism. One such banner speaks of the dangers of free speech; how, like a smokestack, a solitary source can poison a whole community.

I join Shu Shi in his office for conversation over tea, as three silent State Security officers monitor us both while a fourth operates a tape recorder for future transcription. The United Peoples' Republic holds no one is above the law, most especially its rulers. Critics abroad have described the country's new government as a suicide pact. Surprisingly, Shi does not disagree.

In the Chairperson's view, multicultural nations require extra measures that monocultural ones do not. Ignoring those issues is what he feels doomed the United Republic from its onset. "When the Fire Lords colonized the western Earth Kingdom, they failed to grasp what Emperor Chin had: conquerors become the conquered. The Fire Nation tried to export its culture wholesale and failed. Instead, a toxic synthesis was created from the Earth Kingdom's rigid social stratification and the Fire Nation's fetishization of bending.

"For instance, an earthbender and a firebender working at an Early Colonial Era forge could produce steel of such quality that it was only three-quarters of a century ago machine-made steel could match it, and by then the social stigma against non-benders in steelmaking was entrenched in this country. This was true in other fields. Yet Fire Nation colonials regardless of bending could enjoy the benefits of first class citizenship, leaving non-bender Earth Kingdomers a permanent underclass useful for dirty jobs."

"Then Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko, with the best of intentions, made everyone living in the colonies equal citizens under the law. Suddenly all non-benders were in the same boat."

So the Equalist Revolt was due to lingering classism from the Pre-Republican Era?

"In part," Shi replies, leaning forward. "The idea that animated both sides of the Equalist Revolt, that benders and non-benders are separate breeds, is a distinctly Fire Nation one. From the days of the Sun Warriors offering human sacrifice to the dragons, to the Fire Lord basing their legitimacy in blood and fire, to the tradition of agni kai, bending has symbolized supreme authority in their civilization.

"Yet the societal militarization of the Hundred Years' War meant non-benders were commonly trained in some weapon or fighting style, and they became respected by the firebending establishment for that martial skill. Someone like Royal Consort Mai, a non-bender, would have been unthinkable as the Fire Lord's bride pre-war. Such cultural evolution did not take place in the Colonies, as the Earth Kingdom non-bender underclass allowed such backwards attitudes to survive. Although the United Republic's law stated everyone was equal, custom meant that unrighteousness persisted."

It is here I interrupt the Chairperson. Isn't he contradicting himself, talking up how benders were more useful than non-benders to society but chiding the Fire Nation for championing benders?

"Of course not. While technology has and will eliminate their utility in certain fields, benders are undeniably more effective than non-benders where their talents can make a difference. Earthbenders as road repairers, for example. The problem both the pre-war Fire Nation and its former colonies had was that they upheld benders as innately superior. We in the Peoples' Republic understand better. Benders _are_ superior in the right roles, but so are non-benders. What does bending have to do with the intellect needed for bookkeeping? Or schooling? Or politics? Our nation achieves its greatness in that we determine the right people for the right jobs and apply them, without being hampered by the softness and toxic customs that defeated the United Republic."

Such customs are what Chairperson Shu Shi and his cohorts in the Unity Party mean to stamp out with their draconian policies. The early results of the Peoples' Republic creation of a scientifically managed society has won it praise even from skeptical quarters. Tools such as my armband are meant to make it clear where every person stands in society and what expectations there are of them. Failure to meet those expectations results in reprimand for them and harsher reprimands still for those that misestimated their abilities to begin with. As such, crime and social unrest are down to a historical national low.

Shi scoffs at criticism of his government's methods. "Ours is a nation of peoples, not people. Maintaining civil order in our territory requires a firm hand. As Emperor Chin showed when he alone managed to truly unify the diversity of the Earth Kingdom under his banner, an unyielding and cruel law is the only way to deal with the conflicting, contradictory cultures of the peoples within such a nation. One need only look at the historical weakness of the Earth Kingdom's central government to see that truth. That is precisely why forward-thinking men and women in Ba Sing Se are supporting homegrown champions of neo-legalism like the Green Shirts Society."

As our alloted time comes to a close, Shu Shi gestures to a nearby window. "If the readers of _Excellence_ wish to know what tomorrow will look like, they need only come to Republic City. Monarchism, democracy, and equalism are the failed creeds of the past. We here are living in the days of the future's past!"


	2. After the Bomb

A/N: TLoK darkfic to the tune of _Warhammer 40K_.

(I'll write non-darkfic for TLoK eventually. Promise!)

* * *

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**After the Bomb**

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* * *

It is the 70th Year of the Fire Imperium.

A corpulent red sun blazes over an arid landscape choked with bleached bones and dead cities. It drifts aimlessly about the sky, rarely setting, and then never for long. Perhaps in some beached hulk on a salt-encrusted shoreline, you might find an antique compass. Its needle spins and spins.

This is the world unbalanced. This is a world of Fire.

There are but two great citadels left to mankind in this hellish world. All around them? Barren waste. A howling, gritty wind steadily erodes every trace of man's former dominion. There are scattered outposts where pitiful scavengers and barbarians cling to life in the shadows, fearful of the horrors that now share this world with them.

Like the unquiet dead, carrying banners from the nations they fought for in life, roaming the land whenever the diseased sun approaches twilight, seeking to add fresh recruits to their shadow legions. Or the rusting tanks, airships, and ironclads that continue to patrol the world for enemies to smash. These machines are captained by nothing and no one; death and war alone animate them. Ancient spirits, warped by this new world order, freely walk amongst mankind; feeding, playing, tricking, and punishing as they see fit. Worse yet are the abominations spawned when these spirits lie with humans: mutants, demons, witches - and worse.

In the far east, the sandblasted Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se stands tall against an enemy that will never against assail it. The war ground to a halt long, long ago. The sands have taken the bones of the armies that once clashed at the wall's foot, and here, at least, the unquiet dead contentedly stand sentry for a living liege.

For from the crystalline heart of his city, the Earth King holds court with an anemic nobility and takes counsel with pretender sages garbed in their ancestral White Lotus cloaks. The kiss of the sun is for slaves and peasants. Aboveground, metalbenders maintain a rusting shield against the sky. It moderates the sun over what was once the majesty of the Inner Ring, now reclaimed as precious farmland. In the ghettoes that cling to the shadows of the city's inner walls, peasants dutifully line up for their daily water ration. They are drawn from the Laogai Aquifer, the last great labor of the fabled Bumi, now claimed by the government as the father of King Kuei and the grandfather of the current Earth King. Few know the truth. None care, for what value has any truth in such a world?

In the far west, Imperial City clings to a coastline whose waters retreated long ago. Earthbenders vigilantly maintain the Grand Azula Dam, which holds in Azula Bay, whose vital waters are partly replenished by the annual trickle conducted from the city's surrounding mountaintops by the Azula Aqueducts. Metalbenders see to the city's all-encompassing steel dome, constructed from the warships, cargo haulers, yatchs, and miscellaneous craft of the desperate exodus that fled the volcanic ruins of the Fire Nation. Down where the briny ocean lingers, firebenders desalinate the waters and work-gangs of waterbenders stream it back uphill to the city's reservoir. Every year they have to go a little further.

From her throne, Phoenix Queen Azula dictates orders to phantom prefectures and paper armies. Her grand secretariat, Hiroshi Sato, has carefully managed his liege's descent into madness since Prince Azulon's abdication and flight into the wastes, doing his best to ensure that the realm does not suffer from any vain attempts to re-conquer a dying, exhausted world. He balances on the knife edge of Azula's whims, for her insanity is matched only by the blind fanaticism she instilled in her citizenry during her healthier days. But what choice does he have when the dark aura of the elderly Pheonix Queen is all that holds the city together?

In the gladiatorial pits, a young Imperial Army officer named Mako battles to the death for his liege's amusement, hiding his tainted blood and earthbending brother from the authorities, for his queen prizes - and rewards - purity from members of her own race.

In the corridors of power, Water Minister Tarrlok whispers to his fellow benders of their necessity to the city's survival, and how non-benders should be properly rewarded for how little they contribute.

In the city's slums, a masked man offers the powerless something they have never had: hope. For, Amon claims, the spirits have empowered him to lead humanity back to righteousness and harmony once society has been purged of the impure.

And at the outskirts of Imperial City, in the distance, two rides approach against a gathering windstorm.

One is the long-lost Prince Azulon, unrecognizable with his shaved head and tattooed skin. His blood sings in harmony with the wind, a birthright stolen from his father's living corpse by a mother hungry for the power it could offer her bloodline.

The other, a dark-skinned girl, stares and stares at the megastructure of the city's dome. She has journeyed far from the twilight valleys of the iceless South Pole, where the last remnants of her people eek out a living on the allege scum and mutant fish farmed from a half-dead sea. She is Avatar Korra, a living relic whose duties ended along with the world seven decades ago. She is the would-be master of Imperial City by the will of the last airbender, and intended master of mankind by the collective might of a thousand and one lifetimes. She is a seventeen year old illiterate.

To live in such times is to spit in the face of sanity itself. Forget restoring the balance, for that has been lost, never to be regained. Forget peace and kindness, for the human race can only endure by the iron will of tyrants. There is no future for humanity, only an eternity of degradation and slavery, and the laughter of thirsty spirits.


	3. The Survivor

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**The Survivor**

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* * *

He is tagged as a dead man when the cops drag him to the hospital. Firebending-related crimes are far from uncommon in Republic City, and even the staffers at the front desk can eyeball the goners at a glance.

He is a sobbing ruin, smoldering and broken.

And then he explodes.

* * *

. . .

* * *

The audience simply watches on, horrified, as policemen fall to masked revolutionaries armed with taser gloves, like they couldn't do anything to help even though there were hundreds of them and a handful of Equalists.

_Stupid apes, _John thinks to himself as he stands.

"Oy! You there!"

The nearest Equalist turns, looks him up and down from shaved head to sandaled feet. The Air Nomad clothes the temple lent him are eye-catching. "Aren't you supposed to be a pacifist?"

Somehow, the question hits John like a slap.

* * *

. . .

* * *

One frosty morning, Korra offers to spar with him.

"A little adrenaline to fill in the holes of my Swiss cheese brain?" She stares at him, and John wonders what odd thing he's said now. "Well, no use standing around here."

It turns out he really can fight, holding his own against Korra in a hour-long marathon. John's body falls into the proper motions without any real thought.

Maybe he was a soldier in a past life.

Korra is panting for breath by the end. His own clothes aren't even damp with sweat. "Wooo!" she exclaims. "Nobody's kept up with me in forever. That was _fantastic_!"

John cocks his head. "Nice word, that. 'Fantastic.'" He murmurs it to himself for the rest of the day, rolling the syllables around on his tongue, and enjoys himself so much that, for the first time since he woke up, the teeth in John's mouth don't feel like they belong to a stranger.

* * *

. . .

* * *

And then he explodes.

Not with flames, the death struggle of panicked firebenders, but with brilliant golden light. None of the firebenders on staff can contain the blaze. When the fireworks fade, the burned man smiles at the shocked hospital staff with a fresh new face.

"Hello!" He offers a jaunty little wave. "I'm... uh..."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Ikki pesters him with the same question his first night at temple, when Tenzin invites him to dinner.

Before her parents can hush her, he replies as if on reflex, "Doctor John Smith."

* * *

. . .

* * *

Chief Bei Fong talks to Master Tenzin in a low, hushed voice when they think he's out of earshot, distracted by the honking big statue they're sailing past.

"No name. No memories. Nothing in his pockets but a bag of half-melted candy."

"I've never heard of any spirit that has pockets, let alone candy in them."

"Our hands are full right now, Tenzin, and you and your father always handled spirit stuff. So handle it."

The tattooed man sighs. "Anything else I should know?"

"He was insulted that anyone cared if he was a bender or not, but it turns out he thought the word meant something else."

* * *

. . .

* * *

The city is _burning._

The smoke and flames are everywhere, and all he can do is watch as the silver leaves turn to ash again and the Equalist killcruisers exterminate benders.

He can't even... _couldn't _even save anyone...

Clenching his aching head, John Smith slams his eyes shut.

* * *

. . .

* * *

Maybe he was a soldier in a past life.

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be a pacifist?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

"I'm... uh..."

* * *

. . .

* * *

"Doctor John Smith."

"Doctor who?"

* * *

. . .

* * *

It is not John Smith who opens his eyes.

* * *

. . .

* * *

He leads the quartet to an abandoned scrapyard.

"Your plan is for us to hide in a blue box?" Asami asks.

"Yes, actually."

Bolin says, "I'm thinking that might be a little awkward and uncomfortable."

He unlocks the TARDIS and stands aside. The humans peer through the door, jaws hanging.

"It's bigger on the inside!" Korra blurts.

And the Doctor grins.


	4. On Her Majesty's Public Service

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**On Her Majesty's Public Service**

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* * *

"Multiple counts of destruction of private and city property. Resisting arrest. Assaulting officers of Her Majesty's Home Guard." Noatak folded his hands, meeting the downcast Avatar's eyes. "Impressive list."

"But there were some thugs threatening a helpless shopkeeper! And I had to-"

"Help?" he guessed. "While I admire your strong sense of morality, young Avatar, you should have flagged down a patrol officer and stayed back." Her shock at being recognized was amusing, and honest. It was nice for once not to be underestimated simply because he had 'savage' blood coursing through his veins. "Our chi-blockers are trained to apprehend firebenders with the minimal necessary force. _You_ destroyed an entire side street."

The Avatar sat up-right, straightening her shoulders. "Fine. I want to talk to whoever's in charge."

"That would be Colonel Noatak."

"So get him down here."

"No need. He's already here."

"But... but you're Water Tribe, like me!"

"Despite what you may have heard, the laws of New Yu Dao are quite equitable to all people: Earth, Fire, and even Water. The duty of the Home Guard is to see that the Colonial Civil Code is impartially enforced." Whatever Governor-General Morishita, or some of his own officers, otherwise believed. But that was why Her Majesty had specially appointed him.

There was a knock on the door. "Colonel, Master Tenzin is here-"

"Allow him in."

"-and so is Lady Beifong."

The Avatar perked up. "Wait, Lin Beifong? Toph's daughter?"

"...Her as well."

Master Tenzin allowed the lady in first. Avatar Korra stared wondrously at Beifong's face for a moment, then remembered why she had earned Master Tenzin's silent reproach.

"Tenzin, sorry. I got a little side tracked on my way to see you."

He smoothed out his beard, then glanced between Beifong and him. "Colonel, if you would be so kind as to drop the charges against Korra, I will take full responsibility for today's regrettable events, and cover all the damages."

"No need," said Lady Beifong. "The Equalists will foot the bill."

"We agreed-"

"No. You _talked_, like you always do, and as usual nobody listened."

"Injecting politics into this situation is hardly helpful, Lin!"

"It's already political. The only question is who pays for the Avatar's idiot vigilantism."

"HEY!"

"Kid," said Lady Beifong, "if you want to stop the firebenders from oppressing my people, that's wonderful, but you can't do that while hurting the people you're protecting."

"Unless we're talking about blood traitors, in which case smashing their storefronts is a blow for equality." Tenzin looked uncomfortable. The Avatar stared at him, puzzled. Beifong simply glared. "Well, _I_ thought it was funny. And while your offers are appreciated, the damages are paid for."

"Her Majesty's Government is kind," said Master Tenzin, ignoring Beifong's snort.

Noatak unlocked the Avatar's handcuffs. "Actually, I covered them personally."

"You did?" the Avatar asked, rubbing her wrists. "Why?"

If Noatak's facial scarring still allowed it, he would have offered her a smile. "I like to think we're all entitled to one bad day."


	5. Low Culture is Still Culture

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**Low Culture is Still Culture**

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* * *

"I'm not interested in radio," the Earth King interrupted. "Any fool can see how that madman used it to take control of Republic City. In six months his tricks will be commonplace around the world. No. I'm looking forward to the future, and the future... is tele-vision."

In another lifetime, the chief of Section 9 of the Interior Ministry might have worn a conical hat and stone gloves. Nowadays he settled for an immaculately tailored suit. "With due respect, sir, science fiction is not my purview."

"That Amon fellow relied on radio to spread his message without printing presses or distribution chains, and look what he did using just his voice. Imagine if we had a cinema in every citizen's home, only we picked the things they saw and heard." The Earth King paused. With great deliberation, he mused aloud, "Imagine if we could control the things they thought. Their dissent would be silenced before they even dreamed it up."

The Deputy Interior Minister felt his mouth go dry. He hadn't risen to his position by being incapable of making intuitive leaps. "Would... _that_... even be possible on a mass scale?"

"The theoretical principles are sound," the Earth King said. "During the Hundred Year War, your predecessors bent the lattices of glowcrystals, manipulating their light wavelengths to soften the minds of dissenters. The University of Ba Sing Se has developed new machine with the potential to reproduce that repeating sequence of wavelengths without the need for any specially trained earthbenders. Professor Bai calls his device the cathode ray tube."

"That is a lot of power in any agency's hands, Your Majesty."

"Yes. Which is why I've asked the Crown Prince to supervise the creation of a new broadcasting service directly head by the crown. It will be a good post, I think. Learning to grapple with the power of mass media will be an important lesson for the leaders of this kingdom. There is one thing, though."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"What use is a tele-vision broadcasting service if it has nothing to entertain the people with? But I think someone of your talents would be good at figuring out what the masses want to see and how to give it to them. Which is why I'm promoting you to my cabinet as-"

"Cultural Minister," he guessed.

And the Earth King smiled.


	6. Severance

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**Severance**

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* * *

The arena offered a spectacular view of Republic City's waterfront. Tahno especially liked the view from Butakha's office. It was really something. The cool salt breeze came off the ocean and sometimes you couldn't smell smog or nothing. Plus, it faced away from the street, so you didn't have to worry about anybody spying on you.

All in all, a real nice window to hang someone out of.

"HELLLLLLP! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

"Nobody's coming for you," Tahno said. Beside him, Ming and Shaozu each held one of Butakha's legs. "So unless you want to die, you better give us our prize money. We've got hospital bills to pay."

"I don't owe you nothing! You're a cheat, Tahno! A dirty cheat!"

"Y'know, for three years nobody cared how we put on a good show, just that we did. We sold a lot of tickets. So I gotta wonder why Shinobi suddenly grew a pair."

Butakha's face was as red as a potatochoke by now. "Because you made is so easy for him to overlook the obvious!"

Tahno makes a show of scratching his chin. "Hmmm... nah. I gotta go with you messing with the Wolfbats."

"_I'm_ messing with _you_?" Butakha threw his arms wide; his manic grin looking like a frown from Tahno's perspective. "Amon really did screw with your head."

Shaozu growled, ready to drop him. Tahno motioned to cool it. They were not going to get the money owed to them by killing the only guy who knew the safe's combination. Even if they had their bending, the thing was proofed against benders.

"See," Tahno began, "some underdogs beating the champs makes for a nice story, but an even better one is the underdogs getting cheated out of their victory. Just think of how Shinobi could've strung that out alllllll next season, dangling the road to the big rematch like a piece of bait in front of a hungry fish. The public would've eaten that up; the chance to see the Wolfbats finally get what's coming to them. Too bad Amon rewrote your story."

Butakha shut up.

"Since you were going to drop us, why shouldn't we drop you?"

The old man burst, "I need that money to fix this place! It's a damn wreck!"

"Not our problem."

"We can work out a deal!"

"Without our bending, there's nothing for us. What am I going to do, sweep floors for the rest of my life? Go back to Mother Swamp? Nuh-uh." Tahno said, "You've got money to lose. We don't have anything left. Think about that."

"...Fine. FINE! Just pull me up!"

In short order, a cool half million yuans went into their bags. Then, Butakha got tied up to his desk chair.

"You're dead men, you hear me?" the owner spat.

Tahno shouldered his share of the pot. "Look who's talking. Amon took our bending away. What's he going to take from a collaborating non-bender like you?"

Butakha went pale.

"I'd look into franchising abroad. See you around."


	7. Upstaged

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**Upstaged**

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* * *

The Wolfbats, humbled, went into the water.

Amon took a moment to enjoy the sight of his banners unfurling from the arena's rafters; another sign of the bending elite's impending doom.

Except they were no longer _his _banners.

Defiled with rough strokes of white paint, the circular red emblem of the Equalists now smiled down on everyone. A moment later, another surprise joined them.

Screams filled the arena.

Between each smiley face banner, dangling from a length of rope, one of his flock hung dead.

_"Um, hi."_

Mouths gaping, the crowd looked all around for the location of the new speaker. Amon's fiddled with the announcer's microphone he was to have used. Dead. Someone else was in control.

_"We're sorry to interrupt tonight's entertainment, but it was just so... boring. Because we know what our little masked revolutionary is going to say. Benders are responsible for all the wars in the world. They kill everybody's parents. They keep the trains from running on time. Blah blah blah."_

In the stands, his Equalists were dueling with masked assailants. Some were tossing Sozin Sizzlers at Amon's brothers and sisters. Other were pulling the rags out of their Sizzlers, dousing themselves with the bottle's petrol mixture, lighting themselves on fire, and rushing at his Equalists. The ones that weren't fighting or holding the attendees at bay were killing the unconscious cops.

_"Amon here thinks he can do better. He wants to run Republic City. But can he make the tough calls?"_

"Sir." The Lieutenant, who had been down below taking care of the Avatar and her friends, limped onstage. "We have another problem."

Before he could ask what, the lights dimmed. Raging flames and the thick, greasy smoke of burning human fat cast the arena in savage colors, like something out of the Sun Warrior ritual sacrifices of old.

Then the spotlight turned on.

It focused on what had been the Fire Ferret's announcement platform. There, standing in the crisp white light, was the Avatar. She was bound in rope. A trio of masked men restrained her further. But she was not what drew Amon's attention. No, that was the man with the microphone: a ratty purple suit, green hair, skin caked in white paint, and a garish ruby smile plastered across his face.

He looked like a joke.

_"You had a chance to do your magic to the Avatar here the other night, but you didn't. That means she's important to you and your little scheme. But how important? Could any bender really be worth more to Amon than a non-bender? LET'S FIND OUT!"_ The clown pulled out a switchblade and held it against the Avatar's cheek. _"Either Amon personally kills that baton twirling mustached lackey of his in the next sixty seconds, or I get to work on the Avatar. Starting with putting a_ smile _on that face of hers. HA HA HA HA HA!" _

"Sir," the Lieutenant rasped, the eyes of the crowd on them, "what are we going to do?"

Amon stared back at him.

"...Sir?"


	8. Hate Speech

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**Hate Speech**

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* * *

Plates shuffled and mouths chewed. It was just the three of them tonight—Tenzin, Pema, and Lin. The Avatar was off, busy with the day-and-night task of healing Amon's victims. The children were being treated to dinner on their uncle's flagship. Only Rohan shared the dining room with them, dozing against his mother's breast.

Tenzin looked at nobody. Pema kept her eyes down. Only Lin, silently annoyed at yet another meal without meat in it, dared look at the others, waiting.

"The food is excellent, Pema," she finally said.

"Thank you."

"Too bad I can't say the same about the conversation."

"If you feel so strongly about conversation," Tenzin began, still not looking up from his rice bowl, "then perhaps you ought to defend it."

"I do if it's worthwhile. There can be bad food, after all. You do the cook no favors by not pointing it out."

Pema watched the pair, silent.

Tenzin exhaled through his nose. "Don't dance around your point, Lin. It doesn't suit an earthbender."

"All right." Lin set down her chopsticks. "You're being an idiot. How can you defend those people?"

"The Equalists are already outlawed. I don't see the point in making them _more_ illegal."

Her fist pounded the tabletop and the plates jumped. "That's a load of malarkey and you know it!"

Pema stood up. "I think the baby needs a dipper change."

They watched her retreat, then resumed their glaring match. When Lin spoke again, she kept her voice to a restrained level. "The Equalists aren't the problem. The problem is the next group that decides to change the world by getting rid of everyone that they don't think fits into it. If you want to stop them before they even get started, vote 'yes' tomorrow."

"Freedom of speech goes back to the Republic's founding, Lin. If we chip away at the protections of the Basic Law, we're no better than Tarrlok!"

"Please. We have insane speech laws for the same reason there's two Water Tribe seats on the council: nobody trusted Uncle Zuko after he almost started another war. The Earth King and your grandfather wanted to have as many voices as possible to shout down the colonists if they got too cozy with the fatherland."

Tenzin shook his head. "Just because their origin wasn't ideal doesn't mean our rights aren't worthwhile."

"This is about more than freedom." Lin said, "It's about responsibility. Amon is on us. We tolerated their intolerance. We let the Equalists recruit in public parks, spewing their hate-mongering _under police protection_."

"They weren't criminals back then!"

"They should have been!"

Tenzin banged the table. "You can't make ideas a crime, Lin! And even if you did, people wouldn't stop having them. They'd just go underground, or speak in code. Better to keep it out in the open. Let sunshine be a disinfectant."

"We've seen what sunshine got us." Lin stood up. "If you aren't going to open your eyes, then there's no point in talking. Goodnight, Tenzin."

She walked out, and silence filled the dining room.


	9. When Tenzin Met Pema

**A/N:** _Almost certain to be Jossed by canon at some point..._

* * *

.

**When Tenzin Met Pema**

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* * *

"As I told you during the council meeting, where we _unanimously_voted down your group's proposal—"

"What gives the council the right to vote down anything?" Pema demanded. "Five dictators sitting around a table and ruling by majority vote is no way to run a government."

The words "coming from you" did not escape Tenzin's lips. Unfortunately, "that's a bit rich" still slipped out.

Pema's frosty glare practically froze his goatee off. "I'm trying to serve the best interests of this city, just like you claim to do. You don't need to be rude."

"My apologies," Tenzin said, and he even meant it, even if the young woman sitting across from him was a self-righteous university student who was probably missing class. "That was wrong of me."

Pema seemed to accept his sentiment, as she returned to her argument. "All the council does is perpetuate an _un_just, _un_fair system that deprives its citizens of proper rule."

"You want to replace the rule of five with the rule of one," Tenzin said.

"A monarchy is far more than just another dictatorship, councilman! It's a symbol of national identity and unity. Why, a country without a monarchy is - it's like a flock without its shepard!"

"The United Royalist Front has to understand that the council is simply the least worst compromise between the peoples of every nation."

"That!" Pema pounced. "_That_is exactly the problem, councilman! Our current government is a council of five conflicting enclaves, and those leaders have no reason to look out for foreign nationals. Any three enclaves can legally suppress the rights of the other two."

"Monarchy is against the principles of my ancestors," Tenzin said. "Wisdom, not blood, is how the Air Nomads and the Southern Water Tribe have always picked their leaders. And the North's chieftain has to rule with consent and advisement of his council of elders. If our three peoples were outvoted by the two councilors who ancestors were absolute monarchists, how would that be all right?"

Pema was at a loss for what to say to that.

"Besides," he added, "what king could fairly claim to rule people from all four nations?"

"Technically, the appropriate title would be emperor."

"Miss Pema..."

She stood up and stiffly bowed to him. "Councilman, thank you for your time."

He stood and returned the gesture. "It's all right. But the next time you petition the council, please try to keep in mind our peoples' respective cultures. Republic City isn't the beginning and end of history."

"I will," she said. "And I'll study the Air Nomads closely. I'll figure out how to make a monarchist out of you yet, councilman."

He smiled. "I doubt that. But I can recommend some texts on my people, if you want."

"That would be great!" Pema smiled back at him. She actually wasn't bad looking, now that she wasn't scowling with contempt. "Because I've already filled petitions for each session over the next three months."

Tenzin's face fell.

"Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other, councilman."


	10. Lin and the Gun

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**Lin and the Gun**

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* * *

"This is a 4.5 fen bullet. Feel the weight." Lin tossed weighted blanks to each of her trainees. They caught them with their hands, demonstrating they had not slept through the entire safety training course. Anyone dumb enough to ever metalbend a live, unfired round was asking to lose fingers if not their hand. "They're fired by Dai-Sato Model 4s, the weapon of choice for triads with something to compensate for. That gun would snap your wrist if you weren't careful, but metalbending can zero out its recoil. Does anyone know why the bad guys use that gun and we stick with Model 3s?"

Trainee Zuan said, "Overpenetration."

"There's that. What else?"

"Because the council is tightfisted," Trainee Li said.

"No comment. And?"

Nobody knew. Rookies.

"It's because," Lin finally explained, "you need metalbending to make the Model 4 halfway effective. If you're standing on ice or carpeting or a wooden floor, or anything that gets between your feet and good earth—you're out of luck. There's nowhere for you to redirect your service weapon's recoil. The shot goes wild. You'll be open to a counterattack, and, worse, you might have just killed a bystander.

"The same is true for any other firearm. Never, EVER metalbend your service weapon. That is the first and most important lesson of combat metalbending. If I catch any of you zeroing out a firearm, you'll get the boot from this program. Got it?"

They chorused, "Yes, Chief."

"Good. Now, let's get down to today's second lesson: how to curve a fired bullet..."


	11. Trial and Error

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**Trial and Error**

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* * *

Noatak threw a blanket over the drooling vagrant, hiding away that unblinking stare. This was _wrong_! His control should have been perfected by now. Yet no matter how many cities he visited, how many degenerate benders he cornered, he was still no closer to realizing the full scope of the technique. Inevitably, the subject's chi pathways just... shredded, like meat stewed for too long in the pot.

He could do this!

He had done this, under a full moon, but what was the value of that? Did the Avatar have any such limitation upon himself?

No, and neither would Amon.


	12. Economic Equalism

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**Economic Equalism**

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* * *

"Are you tired of living under the tyranny of capitalists? Then join the Equalists! For too long, the monied elite of this city have forced the proletariat to live as lower class citizens. Join Amon, and together we will tear down the plutocratic establishment!"

* * *

. . .

* * *

"My quest for equality began many years ago." Amon took the microphone and brought it close to his frozen expression. He started to slowly prowl the stage. "When I was a boy, my family and I lived on a small farm. We weren't rich. This made us easy targets for the bank who extorted my father. After a bad harvest, their thugs came to repossess our land. My father confronted them. But when he did, they took my family from me, and then they took my face. I've been forced to hide behind a mask ever since." Amon slowly counted to three in his head. It wouldn't do to hit his next mark too early. "As you know, the Avatar has recently arrived in Republic City."

Jeers filled the warehouse.

"And if she was here she would tell you that the division of the Four Nations brings balance to the world. But she is wrong. The only thing nationality has brought to the world is suffering. It is an excuse that the elites use to turn workers everywhere against one another! It is the lie that 'Fire' Lords and 'Earth' Kings use to prop themselves up in their golden palaces while orphans starve in the gutter. It has been the cause of _every war_ in _every era_!

"But that is about to change..."


End file.
